


The Necklace

by gendar_merle_rie



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gendar_merle_rie/pseuds/gendar_merle_rie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oldrivalshipping, Gameverse. Gary surprises Leaf... and she surprises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Necklace

**Author's Note:**

> Oldrivalshipping is one of my OTPs... I wrote this on the premise that, in the FRLG games, Leaf never says a word and Gary seems to be getting increasingly pissed off with her. Wonder why . Anyways enjoy!

__"This is for you."

Leaf lifts her head, startled, to see Gary, standing in front of her, one hand awkwardly stretched out, his whole body conveying an attitude of utter embarrassment. Nestled in the palm of his hand (long-fingered, large and broad, she notes, and is instantly ashamed at the train of wicked thoughts that follow) is a small white box, decorated simply with a thin, threadbare blue ribbon.

Instantly, as if by reflex, a dark flush covers her face, and she stretches out trembling fingers to take the box, half-afraid that inside would be a trick, some sort of prank - or, even worse, that Gary would yank it away from her at the last second and laugh at her being so dense.

He has a history of being solidly, obliviously mean like that.

But he does none of the sort, just slips the package into her hands and withdraws instantly. Almost as if he is afraid to touch her fingers, as afraid as she is of contact with the other.

Leaf bites her lip, and smiles weakly at him in thanks. She almost misses his reaction - almost. That means that she sees him sigh in disappointment, sees his lips twitch with irriation, sees his shoulders slump with exasperation. Then she finally guesses the motive of his impromptu presentation of this gift to her.

He wants to hear her say something, anything, just as long as she opens her mouth and says something.

This game of theirs has been going on for more than two years now. And along with it had come all sorts of unwanted side effects. Gary, for one, had started treating her like she was an actual human being, and not just like the best friend of his little sister. Not just like someone who liked to hang around the lab, eyes wide open, to take in everything that Professor Oak and the rest of the aides were doing. On her side, she had started evaluating him from a whole new perspective altogether - after all, she didn't quite know why he had suddenly developed an unquenchable thirst to hear her speak to him. And the worst side effect of the game - or the best, Leaf thinks, though it is never something that she would say out aloud to him - is that it has resulted in touches, of the tiny sort, between her and Gary Oak.

Small, subtle interactions here and there, such as when he had purposely brushed past her in the lab. There had been two paths to the door that time - she had been sure of it before the taking up her post next to Oak aide number two. But as she had been silently observing the harassed, could-barely-control-his-impatience aide at his work, observing how he was conducting experiments on the tissue cells of a Meowth, Gary had walked her way, the heated skin of his arm skimming her bare shoulder as he passed by her. She had jumped, then, soundlessly, amazed at the feeling of sparks dancing painfully along her arm at that small contact. But he had not stopped to look at her, and so she had returned to her observation, telling herself it had been nothing. Gary had just been (uncharacteristically) careless.

It was just static, she thinks now, although she isn't quite sure anymore.

And then there had been the time he had purposely started an argument with her. Had flared up over some small mistake that she had made that, he claimed, he would never have been so stupid as to make. This had been followed by an endless string of insults, all aimed at provoking her to retort, to answer back. But she knew him all too well. She knew his game, his aim of doing so, and she was too well-disciplined to fall for so transparent a ruse.

So she had not spoken. And Gary had walked away dissatisfied and fuming.

Why has she never spoken? She asks herself this now, puzzled with her reticence that she had dragged to the extreme. Why stay silent, all these years, not just to Gary, but to the others around her? When others spoke, she made gestures to show she understood them. She preferred to show, rather than simply tell. To actually do things in response to others' words. Some had actually asked her, candidly, if she were mute (Gary, of course, was included in this callous group). This query had been answered with an empathetic shake of the head.

She just didn't like wasting words, that was all. And she, frankly, was afraid to speak. Afraid of saying something that might distance a friend forever, afraid of saying something that would portray her as rude and oblivious, afraid of saying something that would make others look at her with disgust.

So she had kept silent. And she had not said a word, to Gary, or anyone else. Not even, most of the time, to her mother, preferring to keep to herself. She was close to her mother, yes, in a way that didn't need simple words to create the bridge between them.

And so now she stands here, Gary impatiently waiting for her to open the gift, hoping against hope that she will make some utterance of thanks when opening it. She wonders what is inside.

"You can open it, you know," he says, eyebrows rising. "Don't just stand there! Open it, for God's sake."

So Leaf carefully pulls off the ribbon (a good ribbon, after all, one that she can use later - even if it is a little scraggly). She picks open the clumsily-taped-together wrapping paper, something that is obviously Gary's good work. Then she finds - a simple black box.

Rather than ask what's inside, as many would do, she keeps silent just to tease him, and looks at the scuffed toes of her trainers as she lifts the cover of the box. She glimpses a sparkle, a small glimmer of light, as she opens the lid, and catches her breath - resplendent among the purple silk backing is a simple silver necklace, the sparkling green pendant in the shape of a leaf.

He is watching her like a hawk. She slowly lifts the necklace out of the box, and puts it around her neck, fastening the clasp. Then she realises that her cheeks are rosy, flushed with embarrassment and gratefulness all at the same time. She has trouble clicking the clasp into position, though, and her hands remain up there at her neck for an inordinate amount of time. Gary suddenly clicks his tongue in annoyance and strides over to her. The closer he gets, the more she fumbles, and the more she blushes, hating herself for being unable to do so simple and so stupid a thing.

"Let me do it, you," he snaps, and brushes the hair off her neck. She drops her hands and holds her breath, feeling the not-so-gentle touch of his fingers efficiently putting the clasp together. Every brush of his skin against hers is, again, electric, and again she forces herself to think: It's just static.

As he steps away from her to admire his handiwork, she looks at him. Truly looks at him for once. She sees the suppressed admiration in his gaze, and there is something of a... predatory glint about his eyes that makes her shiver.

Suddenly she is overcome with feelings, feelings which she does not understand, which make her stomach bottom out and her eyes sparkle and her legs feel weak. It is suddenly impossible for her to take more than a few steps forward - which she does, ignoring the look of surprised anticipation that appears on his face as she moves closer to him.

He is expecting a thank you. She gives him one.

Their lips meet - later Leaf would reprimand herself for her boldness, but right now it doesn't matter - and there is instantly a spark of electricity between their lips. He is startled, shocked even, but only for a split second. Then he starts kissing her back, his lips soft, his eyes drifting close.

It is wonderful, almost painful in its beauty. And it is only when Gary starts massaging the base of her neck that Leaf realises (in a daze) that she has been terribly, terribly tense.

She forces herself to pull away (more from a lack of oxygen than anything). Then she looks at Gary, whose still looks somewhat stunned at her actions. And then she smiles, a huge smile. The pendant is cool against the heated skin of her neck.

"Thank you," she whispers, the cadence of her voice soft and cracked from disuse. It is far lower than she remembers - after all, it has been a few months since she last spoke aloud.

His eyes widen, his jaw drops - and she giggles. Yes, actually giggles.

It wasn't just static after all.


End file.
